


Eccentricities

by VenomQuill



Series: Stickmin Collection fics [8]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Sir Wilford IV defeated his former chief in combat, Stinger is a made-up character, Wonder how that thought got in his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Terrence is an up and coming member of the Toppat Clan, already well known for his extraordinary negotiation and capability to squirm money out of the tightest purses. Sir Wilford IV is a brawler and well-respected member of the Toppat Clan. Both are elites, but neither in an extreme position of power. Chief Jaques Kensington knows this, as does his right hand.So what happens when a quiet son of a politician meddles with a leader that becomes paranoid, a right hand that becomes overly protective, and a fearless elite that dances with death a few too many times?
Series: Stickmin Collection fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983670
Kudos: 14





	Eccentricities

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: https://www.deviantart.com/venomquill/art/Eccentricities-859103706

He knew he wasn’t a fighter, he knew he didn’t have the quickest fingers. But Terrence did have something he knew was more valuable than the two put together: he had a good way with people and an even better way with their own heads. Every new person he met was an intrigue. He could make assumptions based on a first impression, but it rarely worked out like that. Some people were simply bad at first impressions. But it was their actions and what they said that really interested him. Comparing their words–or lack thereof–to their actions, counting on what they did, how they talked, how they delt with anything from glee to stress to fury to grief. He liked to think he had a good eye for people, especially the competent ones.

Sir Wilford IV was destined for greatness. He was fierce, commanded respect, had an authority far above his station even when he first joined. People enjoyed listening to them, as they felt they could depend on him. They knew he’d have their backs when the time came for it, and he knew they’d do the same. Terrence liked the man for it. But he also liked how he had a loud voice, a blunt type of speech, and a less grandeurs way of moving and acting, but how… different he acted “away from the camera” he found the most intriguing.

Sir Wilford IV was a nice man, tough and sometimes– _often_ –belligerent, but he had a good head on his shoulders and knew when his usual harshness was uncalled for. Terrence liked staying by the man’s side, albeit when off-mission, and swapping stories. Terrence’s were often achingly boring. What he’d do for some good ol’ action, after all! And that action was something he _got_ from Sir Wilford IV. The man was a fighter but enjoyed a good con every now and then. They went together like old friends, even in the beginning. Sure, there were some flaws. Terrence had been worn to his wit’s end by Wilford’s aggression every now and again, and Wilford found his complaints “whiny” and “annoying” at times. But they got together well, for the most part. It was through Terrence’s greater knowledge of Sir Wilford IV that he began to see Chief Jaques’ new behavior in an ironic twist.

Chief Jaques wasn’t an _aggressive_ man by any definition of the word. But he was a little, well, _odd_. Behind his back, eccentric was the most popular adjective people would use. Terrence noticed this, but he also noticed something a little off putting. Chief Jaques had always been a little off, ever since Terrence first met him, he knew something was weird. But the looks he was starting to give Sir Wilford IV were way too sharp to be his own. It was almost out of character the amount of pure distrust the man had for Wilford. Chief Jaque’s ever-loyal deputy assigned the patrols. Sir Wilford IV had always volunteered for the messier raids or heists, the ones with a higher risk of injury or capture. He wasn’t an adrenaline junky or stupid by any means, just extremely competent and good with ranged and close quarters combat. But of late, Sir Wilford IV’s _assigned_ patrols seemed even more risky with even _less_ help. They were created more often, or at least Wilford was assigned to more of them. Terrence was a rather laid-back man, but this pointed behavior was really starting to bite at him.

So, Terrence did as any good friend would do.

He told Wilford.

“Terrence,” Sir Wilford IV stated, his voice hard in a warning. “You aren’t telling me the chief and deputy are conspiring against me. That’s a hard accusation to make.”

“I know, I couldn’t believe it myself,” Terrence admitted, his light voice so different from Wilford’s deep one it was nearly jarring. “That’s why I’ve waited so long to tell you. Haven’t you noticed the looks Chief Jaques has been giving you? The extra workload Stinger has been putting on your plate? You’re going on more and more dangerous missions with less people.”

Sir Wilford IV didn’t immediately answer.

Terrence gave him another moment before continuing, “I’d never willingly accuse the chief or his right hand of something so heinous unless I was completely sure of it. But I fear for you, Will. You’re my friend. I truly believe that…” Terrence let his voice trail off.

Sir Wilford IV shook his head, slowly at first but gradually faster as if the words Terrence spoke could so easily be shaken. “That’s not true. The chief looks out for us. He’s odd, but he’s still our boss and I’m still loyal to him.”

“As am I!” Terrence quickly agreed. “But I’m also loyal to you. You’re my friend, and it would kill me if anything happened to you.” Then, Terrence shook his head. “Look, I know this is outlandish, and a very strong accusation. So, I won’t talk about it anymore. Just know that I’m a Toppat, through and through, but I’m also your friend.”

“I know,” Sir Wilford IV stated in a huff. “But Chief Jaques is still our boss.”

“So, I won’t bring it up again.”

“…good.”

Terrence hadn’t lied; Sir Wilford IV was his friend, and he did look out for him. But was Terrence a huge fan of Chief Jaques or his right hand, Stinger? Not _really_. Well, there was a time when Terrence liked them, but things of late weren’t looking pretty. Terrence knew there were people who supported Chief Jaques with all their heart and soul. But there were some, he noticed, who might not.

“Did you hear?” asked Terrence as he stood with a small group of thieves fresh from a mission. “Stinger’s been making missions more dangerous. And Chief Jaques is allowing it.”

Wilhelm’s eyes went wide. “That isn’t true.” His accent was rather thick, but Terrence could still decipher his words.

“Haven’t you noticed?” Terrence prompted. “You yourselves just went on a mission for those jewels. They had a lot of protection. And your group was a little small. Not that I doubt any of you in the least, but wouldn’t an extra pair of hands helped?”

“Well… yeah,” Benjamin said. “Another person would’ve been great. But it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.”

Terrence nodded. “Oh, I’m not doubting any of you in the least. It’s just… watching Sir Wilford IV go on raids almost specifically meant to… oh it’s probably nothing. I just seem to like worrying over people, huh? How about a round of drinks? On me, you guys look like you’ve had a rough time.”

People enjoyed talking over drinks or when they were tired much more than when they were hyped for a mission. Unless, of course, they were nervous about a mission possibly going wrong. _Then_ Terrence’s words were more scary, more real. But he didn’t talk about it for long, or very often. In fact, his more straightforward accusations–asking those who went with Sir Wilford IV about the missions or mentioning the larger danger–were rare. Slipping in a flippant comment or two with the right people, though? That he did often. Not every conversation, not explicit enough to be overly noticeable, but there all the same.

Sir Wilford IV growled over his dinner, bandages close to hiding his left eye, “I can’t believe it. Any half-competent _greenhorn_ would have staked out that museum for longer.”

“What happened?” Terrence prompted, putting down his fork.

“Stinger sent us on an operation to nick a ruby. A big one. But the _day_ we’re sent, the very hour, their guard was doubled? We barely escaped with our lives!” He skewered the chicken he’d been working through with his fork, the tines dangerously close to scraping the plate.

Terrence’s eyebrows furrowed. “God that explains why I didn’t see you all afternoon. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he spat. He took a deep breath and continued, as calm as a tiger who’d reclaimed his kill, “But we lost a few.” He grinded his teeth and sliced his food apart, using his fork more like a set of claws than utensils. “Unnecessary. _Fucking preventable._ ”

Terrence glanced up at the people near him, their own meals interrupted. Keeping his own worried and irritated expression, he looked across another table where Chief Jaques Kensington and Stinger sat. Stinger’s dark green eyes met Terrence’s emerald green ones and narrowed. Terrence returned the look.

Terrence nearly jumped out of his skin as a shouting match greeted him when he left his room. This wasn’t necessarily uncommon of late. Squabbles between Clan members had grown more frequent and more and more heated. But this? This was louder, angrier, much larger than normal. He forced himself to calm and rushed down the hallway. He skidded to a stop upon entering the cafeteria, where a large crowd had gathered. They seethed and hissed, many snarling at each other but others howling at Chief Jaques and Sir Wilford IV, who stood amidst it all like the eye of a hurricane. Terrence pushed past the crowd so he could come to his friend’s side. Stinger met with Chief Jaques.

“I’ve had enough of this!” Sir Wilford IV roared. “I know what you’re doing, and I demand to know _why!_ ”

“What do you think I’m doing?” asked Chief Jaques, shoulder squared, and eyes narrowed in cold fury.

“You’re trying to kill us! You and your _incompetent_ second want us dead!”

Stinger let out a noise resembling lava touching water. “How _dare_ you.”

Chief Jaques agreed, “We lead and look after the Toppat Clan. You’re the one foolishly risking more than you need to!”

Sir Wilford IV, redder in the face, reciprocated, “I’m doing my job! The job that you two assigned me! I’m risking what’s necessary to keep myself and my clan mates alive!”

The crowd had turned their attention on the four in the center as they raised their voices.

Chief Jaques was next. “The Toppat Clan needs to make risks to get rewards, but we look after the safety of our crew. Stinger has been planning raids since before he became a Toppat and he’s damn good at his job. It’s more than an insult for you to even insinuate otherwise! You’re delusional, arrogant, aggressive–you believe you’re entitled to something you’re not, you think you’re something you’re not. And then you accuse _us_ when your stunts inevitably fail?”

Terrence bristled, but forced down the emotion. He needed to be careful here. “Sir Wilford IV is an incredible elite. He earned his way to where he is, and he’s done nothing but good for the Clan. He’s humble, respectful, and commands authority because he _earned his place_ through skill and hard work. He’s an extraordinary planner and even better at enacting the heists and raids he planned.”

Stinger turned on him. “And _you’re_ the one trying to smear our names!”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Terrence countered, finding his indignance replaced by muffled excitement. “Every word I’ve said has been the truth. I’m worried about my fellow Clan members. I’m worried they’ll be hurt, killed, captured. What are we going to do if half our greatest members are in jail or six feet under? How are we going to let the Clan prosper when you’re so desperately trying to take out its greatest people? For what? Jealousy? _Fear?_ ”

Sir Wilford IV glanced at Terrence. “It’s true. He came to me _months_ ago, concerned about my wellbeing. I believed in you and I didn’t want to believe his words. But now? Now I can’t help but think he’s right. You’re trying to get me killed so I can’t speak out against you!”

The crowd broke into a shouting match again.

Chief Jaques balled his hand into fists and screamed, “ _SILENCE!_ ”

“No!” came a brave voice from the crowd whose attention was yet again on the chief and his opposition. “Sir Wilford IV’s right! He hasn’t said a word against you, but he’s nearly been killed how many times? I lost three of my best friends because Stinger decided he wants Sir Wilford IV dead and doesn’t care who he hurts in the process!”

The man next to the Toppat who spoke out whirled on him. “You shut your fucking mouth! Stinger’s done nothing of the sort! Your _friends_ just weren’t good enough! You can’t blame that on him!”

“You motherfu–!”

A third person shoved herself between them. “You raise your damn fists and I’ll castrate you both!”

Terrence took this opportunity to speak to the Clan. “Dignified Clan mates, I can’t look at you and think of you as barbaric. But what is the Clan to be if it’s leader would rather raise hell and incite a fight amongst our own then swallow his own pride and take his criticism?”

Stinger turned on Terrence quick as a viper. “You shut it, Terrence! I’ve had enough of you!”

Chief Jaques looked around at the mass of people, at the chaos that was a feather’s weight away from becoming a bloody civil war. He turned on his opponent. “Sir Wilford IV!” he shouted, scrambling to gain the attention of his quarreling Clan. “ _You_ and your _lacky_ are trying to turn the Clan against each other. I will _not_ suffer your or his presence any longer.”

“And I won’t back down!” Sir Wilford IV snapped back. “Take out your gun and fight me like a man, you sniveling coward!”

Terrence raised his eyebrows. Huh. A duel.

Chief Jaques pulled his golden deagle. Sir Wilford IV unsheathed his own Glock. The crowd backed away, a noticeable parting behind the chief and Sir Wilford IV. Stinger and Terrence backed off as well but didn’t go far enough to join the crowd.

Terrence didn’t know what he expected, but a quick fight wasn’t one. One, two-three shots rang through the cafeteria–two in quick succession but one a few seconds earlier. Sir Wilford IV barked and slapped a hand over his lower chest–inches away from where Terrence knew his heart was beating.

_Thump_

Chief Jaques hit the ground. Blood blossomed from a chest wound above his lung and more of the liquid life ran from the man’s throat. He convulsed, one of his hands desperately pawing at his throat. Blood gurgled from his throat and spilled out his mouth, staining his teeth and dribbling down his cheek as any words he’d attempted to utter were lost.

Stinger knelt by his chief’s side, ripped a wide strip of cloth from his jacket, and wrapped it around the man’s neck. Still, the man was drowning in his own blood, there was no helping that. A third shot ended his struggles.

Terrence could hear his own heart in his ears. Were it not for the blood trickling out of the man’s mouth and throat, Terrence would have believed time had gone still. He glanced at Sir Wilford IV. The man’s eyebrows were contracted. Though his gaze was hard, it was barely focused. The gun in his hand was pointed low, drooping from its position pointed at the former chief’s head. Did the man know what he did? Was he still there? Terrence knew the first two shots were purposeful and well-aimed, but too fast for conscious thought. The third was deliberate, a mercy, the cure to the man’s vain and painful struggles.

Then, someone from the crowd moved.

Terrence watched as a woman crept forward. She started to kneel, to reach out to the man. She froze, her hand halfway to the man’s head, as a gun parted the hair on her head.

“Back. Off.” Stinger’s words were hard, but unsteady.

Terrence almost felt bad.

Almost.

Chief Jaques was dead, defeated in combat by Sir Wilford IV.

Sir Wilford IV stashed away his gun and stood up straight. His eyes regained their focus. “Terrence, find our papers. All four.”

“Yes, sir.” Terrence walked through the crowd and ran to Records to find _their_ papers; all four of them.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Sir Wilford IV** : _"Fourth of his name. One of the strongest leaders in Toppat Clan history."_ (Infiltrating the Airship)  
>  **Sir Wilford IV** : _"He defeated the previous leader to claim the title. He despises incompetence."_ (Completing the Mission)  
>  **Jaques Kensington** : _"A bit of an eccentric leader. He always walked around with his gold deagle in his hand."_ (Completing the Mission)
> 
> This actually started because of a conversation I had with QueenofAngstandSin about Toppat Clan politics. How did the leaders of the Toppat Clan find themselves in power, and how did Terrence Suave of all people succeed Sir Wilford IV?
> 
> Well, Terrence acts like a bored crow, of course! Chief Jaques was great, but started to become wary of Sir Wilford IV, who was also great but was more stable. Some people liked Sir Wilford IV more because of this. So, all Terrence had to do was spread rumors and mention their names a few times and fan these embers. I thought that Sir Wilford probably wasn't the right hand, as he defeated his leader. So maybe when someone becomes chief they had the right to boot the previous right hand and replace them with someone of their choosing. Henry sorta does this with Ellie, his Right Hand Lady. Henry also defeats Reginald and Right Hand Man. So, why not?
> 
> Honestly, Terrence being great at his job and being a very trusted friend to Sir Wilford IV is the only way I could imagine him becoming the man's right hand.


End file.
